Chapter 1

DARCY

* * *

"I can't believe I just heard your song on the radio!" I scream into the phone.

"Yeah, it's pretty wild. I can't believe you heard it since it's not Taylor Swift." Cole responds with sincere modesty and a good hearted jab. He's humble about his music. His baseball career? Not as much.

"I branch out occasionally, but you could learn a thing or two from her," I chide.

He laughs, knowing better than to get into a Swiftie debate with me. "I'm sure I could. But how are you doing, Darcy? Did you secure an internship yet?"

Ugh. Thanks for the reminder. I'm in my last year of college, and this senior project is the only thing standing between me and graduation. This assignment looms large, and as a design student, it's important to build my portfolio and get a passing grade. All the interior design studios I applied to already had interns or weren't interested. I only have a few days to secure the project, or I won't be graduating this year.

"Not yet, but I'm sure something will work out." I let out an enormous sigh.

"Sounds like you're driving. Where you heading?"

"I'm on my way to The Wreck to see if I can pick up a few shifts until I find something. I could use the cash. Besides, you know I never turn down free food."

The Wreck is a local seafood restaurant in Charleston with great food and even better people. I've waited tables there on and off since I was sixteen, primarily for clothes money and extras.

"Darce, you know if you need money…"

"No way, rich guy. I'll never be a kept woman." I laugh at the idea. Cole and I grew up solid middle class. Mom always provided for us, but I lean towards trendy taste in fashion, and I know it. Granted, I'm a thrifting extraordinaire too. But Cole's new circumstances have changed his bank account to the extreme.

My brother is living the dream. Drafted by the New York Liberties this summer, he's working his way through their minor league system. He's living with his love, Ashleigh, in Nashville, where he plays baseball, and now, a song he wrote is playing on the radio, sung by one of today's hottest country stars. He's living a charmed life.

"You know if you need anything," he says for the hundredth time.

"I know. And I appreciate it. But you've done enough. You paid off my student loans and Mom's mortgage. Cole, that's too much already. Save your money."

"It's my job to take care of my family." His words are laced with love and devotion for us. Even though Mom is a kickass single mother, Cole has always been our protector. Our dad left when we were kids and never looked back. But Cole? He's the best guy I know, with a heart of gold and a commitment to people he definitely didn't get from our father.

"And you have. Now, focus on your new family. Have you and Ashleigh set a date yet?"

"No, we're just enjoying the engagement for now, but we're trying to find a date that works for everyone. She's establishing her company, and who knows what next season will bring." I hear a door slam, and a muffled sound comes through the phone.

"Ugh. Are ya'll making out while you're on the phone with me? Knock it off!"

"Hi, Darcy!" Ashleigh says through giggles. "Got that project lined up?"

"Hey, girl. Nah, not yet." I try to sound upbeat but know I can't fool them.

"Well, I might have an idea. Let me see what I can do," she says.

"Oh, please don't worry about me. I'll make it work."

"Are you kidding me? After the great job you did at our house? I'd give you five gold stars, six if they'd let me."

Cole yells, "Hell yeah," in the background.

"Hey, have you heard from Matt lately?" Cole asks as he gets closer to the phone again.

"Matt? No, why?" Matt Hartman is Cole's best friend and my gold standard for guys. He's like Captain America and the boy next door wrapped up in one. Think of the guy in Taylor Swift's music video "You Belong with Me," only brunette. With a killer smile and kind eyes. And a total panty melter in baseball pants. Just like in that video, I've harbored a crush on him since, well, forever. But unlike that video, I didn't walk into prom and sweep him off his feet. I mean, Matt is my brother's best friend, and I'm the annoying little sister. So why would I be hearing from him?

"I asked him to reach out now that he's back in Charleston. If you need anything, ask him like you would me. You know, a surrogate big brother," Cole says innocently.

"Ugh," Ashleigh says. "Sometimes, those are the worst. Leave her alone, trouble."

Cole mumbles something, but I hear lips smacking, and I know Ashleigh has his attention now.

"Thanks. Look, I'm gonna let you two go and do whatever you do. Love you guys!" This conversation is making me uncomfortable. They're living their best lives, and I'm, well, not.

"Bye, Darce. Love you," Cole says before we disconnect.

I envy their relationship. It's sickeningly sweet, and they're perfect for each other. I'm not sure I believe in soulmates, but if they exist, then Ashleigh and Cole are examples.

My relationship with my on-again-off-again ex-boyfriend, Ryan, is nothing like what Cole and Ashleigh have together, and unwittingly, they make me reevaluate what a relationship could be. Should be.

Ryan and I were too hot and heavy to start, and then he took advantage of my kindness. He'd flake on dates, cancel at the last minute, or call me late at night for a booty call. I was a little slow to catch on, but now I'm done. I'd rather be single than used. We are officially off again. Us getting back together? Never! Taylor Swift's songs are the soundtrack of my life.

I park in the gravel parking lot, wave to Eddie, one of the cooks, and wait for Jeff, the manager of The Wreck. I sit at a picnic table overlooking Shem Creek and smile wistfully at the scenery. The boats return home loaded with fresh seafood while seagulls circle for the chance to steal a snack. The smells of marsh, saltwater, shrimp trawlers, and restaurants compete for my attention.

I've worked for Jeff for the past five years during summer breaks and holidays at this locals-only shack with the freshest and best seafood in the area, bar none. It's nothing fancy, which I'm convinced is what keeps the tourists away. The tips aren't as much as one of those tourist hot spots a few doors down, but I know almost everyone who comes in, and it feels like home. If we aren't friends when you sit down, we are when you leave. The connection is as valuable as the money.

Jeff greets me with an overloaded paper plate of extra crispy fried shrimp, just the way I like it, and an ice-cold sweet tea. He knows my order without asking, and the gesture warms my heart. After a quick chat, I'm signed up for a few peak shifts over the next two weeks. Bonus because tonight's dinner and probably lunch tomorrow sit in front of me.

"I've gotta run back in," Jeff says as he stands up. "Enjoy dinner and the view. You know I love having you here. Tell your mama to swing by sometime. It's been too long." He gives me a wink.

"Thanks, Jeff. I will. I'll see you Saturday. And thanks for dinner." I hold up my cup in a mock toast and give him my biggest smile. Free food is unnecessary but always welcomed by this college girl.

My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.

Hey Beautiful! This is the patron saint of senior projects.

I read the message through several times and have no idea who this could be. They must have the wrong number. Several minutes later, I get another text.

Darcy? You busy? I've got a proposition for you.

Ummmm, who is this?

Sorry. Shit. I thought Ash gave you my number. It's Chance. Didn't mean to creep you out. Super sorry. Call me ??

I breathe a sigh of relief. It's not some weird stalker. No, it's even more bizarre. Chance Fuller, professional hockey player for the Raleigh Renegades, absolute god on the ice, and one of the most gorgeous men on the planet, is texting me. And he called me beautiful? And has a proposition? I swear, my life continues to be more surreal each day.

The first time I met Chance was in Nashville while visiting Cole and Ashleigh. I totally thought he was a male stripper. With his body, he could be. Chance is Ashleigh's brother, Julian's best friend. Tangled web, right? I practically need to put an organizational chart on the wall to keep up with all of Ashleigh's people. My little circle of friends has expanded into a list of Who's Who since Ashleigh joined our small family.

I save Chance's number in my contacts and hit the call button. He picks up on the first ring.

"Darcy, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't freak you out or anything. I bet my texts were strange out of context. Are you okay?" He rushes through all that without taking a breath, and I'm not sure I caught every word.

"Hi, Chance. Yeah, um, I'm fine. A little confused, but it's great to hear from you."

"I've got to head to the arena in a minute, but Ash told me you need a senior project. I'm not sure if you knew I was her senior project last year."

This I did not know. I admit, I'm curious. "Dare I ask?"

Laughter is his primary language, and as he chuckles, his low rumble comes through the phone. "She completely took over my social media and increased my followers by an insane amount. She got her project, and I got a body wash contract. It was wild."

"Wow. That is wild. But I don't do social media. I'm a design major."

"Yeah, yeah. She told me that. Look, I don't have much time to go into details, but I just bought a house on the Isle of Palms. It needs a refresh. New kitchen, decor, furniture, the works. I want it to make Tripp's Cancun place look shabby. But I need someone to oversee it and do the interior design. That's you, right?"

"Chance, that's an enormous project. Don't you want a professional?" My stomach flips, thinking about the massive undertaking. It would be amazing and certainly get me an instant portfolio. But a student managing a hefty six-digit project? My advisor won't believe it. Hell, I don't believe it.

"Nah, if you're up for it, I want you to do it. We can talk details later, but I'll give you carte blanche. If Ash's house is any indication of your style, I like it. Besides, you're practically family now."

Ashleigh tried to explain how protective her brothers and their friends are with her, and, I guess by association, me, too. That's something that will take a lot of getting used to. She told me it was futile to fight it. These guys will smother me with love and protection, and apparently, a senior project, whether or not I want it.

"I'll be down there in a few days when we play the Sharks, and we can connect. I'll give you the keys and my credit card and introduce you to the contractor. How's that sound?"

"Um, yeah, sure. Let me know when you're here." This is too good to be true. "Are you sure about this?" I still can't believe he would trust me with such an expensive project. Even if I had landed an internship at a design studio, my job would be to get coffee and run errands for the most part. Maybe pick out fabric for the drapes, but a senior designer would still sign off on that.

But this? Carte blanche? No one to oversee me? No one to take credit for my work? Wow. This project could launch me. Or sink me. I swallow hard, thinking about failing.

"Like I said, beautiful, I'm the patron saint of senior projects. I'll text you the details later."

I'm still in shock at Chance's generosity. "Sounds good." I remember he said he was headed to the arena. I saw him play when we were in Nashville and totally loved it. Growing up around baseball, I never watched other sports. Hockey is exciting. And physical. Chance doesn't hesitate to slam someone into the boards. "Hey, have a great game tonight. Be safe."

"Don't worry about me, beautiful. You just stay out of trouble, and I'll see you soon. Bye!" He hangs up, and I stare at my phone.

Is Cole's charmed life rubbing off on me? Yes. Yes, it is. I can say this with total certainty. I don't deserve it, but I'm not mad about it either.

Who would imagine Chance Fuller, NHL superstar, would be my fairy godmother? Certainly not me.